Page 22 of Rock

That June had been life-altering in many ways. She’d had her first kiss and lost her virginity on the same night. She’d fallen in love that night, too. She’d thought she was on top of the world. And then it had all fallen apart.

When her father’s job transferred him to another state weeks after graduation, her parents decided to keep this house and use it as a rental. They’d done so for all these years. Her parents were in their eighties now, and her mother wasn’t in good health. So they’d finally decided to sell it.

It was time to stop stalling and go inside. She wasn’t expecting a disaster. The last tenants had been amazing folks who took good care of the place, but that didn’t mean the house wouldn’t need some work before it could be put on the market.

Instead of heading for the front of the house, Lyla aimed for the side entrance, the one she’d used most often. Her hands were shaking as she approached. She couldn’t bring herself to reach for the handle.

Rooted to her spot, she stared at the wall next to the door and swallowed. She’d stood in that spot thirty-eight years ago, plastered to the wall, while Rock Monroe kissed the life out of her in the early-morning hours after a night of ecstasy.

Breathing heavily, she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the wall, picturing that night for the billionth time. She’d dreamed of it over and over. She’d never forgotten a detail, but now that she was here, it was so much more real.

She’d stood in this spot, her bare feet planted in the dirt, her prom dress askew, her hair a mess, her makeup long since smeared. She’d been deliciously sore from giving Rock her virginity. She’d also been filled with excitement from giving him her heart.

Rock had pinned her to the side of the house and kissed her over and over, one more last time after another. When he’d finally released her, he’d waited to make sure she made it inside safely, and then he’d sped off on his motorcycle.

Lyla had been eighteen years old. She’d lived two times longer since then. But she’d never forgotten that night, and she never would.

Was he living here in Shadowridge still today? She had no idea. She’d never inquired. Maybe she should look him up.

No. She couldn’t.

He’d had a life since then. It would be too painful to find him married or perhaps even deceased. He would be fifty-eight now. Two years older than her.

She’d often wondered what had become of him, but she’d never allowed herself to search for him on social media. She needed to clean this house, get it up for sale, and let the past lie in the past.

CHAPTER

TWO

“Did you see that blue carpet on the walls?” Ink asked, chuckling.

Breaker laughed. “How could I miss it? It was godawful. I’ve never seen anything so hideous in my life.”

Rock jerked his attention toward the two prospects who were sitting at the bar in the clubhouse, tipping back a few beers. He was standing behind the counter, looking for the box of snacks he’d stashed there a few days ago, hiding it from the Littles.

Grabbing the edge of the bar, he cleared his throat. “What did you say?” His voice squeaked.

Ink glanced at him. “Oh, man, you should have seen it. Breaker and I are doing a bit of work on a house in town. We’re tasked with gutting a basement, and, man, does it need it. Some fool covered an entire wall with navy Berber carpet. Probably been there for decades. Whoever it was did a good job because it’s a bitch to remove.”

Rock’s heart started racing, and it had nothing to do with the heart attack he’d had two years ago. He knew that basement. He knew it better than any other basement in town. He’d spent countless hours in that basement, studying with his friend, playing music, and hovering as close to his Little girl as possible.

The fool who’d stapled that carpet to the wall had been Jackson Sealock. Rock had been head over heels in love with his younger sister, Lyla, though he’d never once told Jackson that.

Breaker chuckled. “Some guy in the eighties probably put the carpet on the wall to help with the basement’s acoustics. Guy probably played the drums too loud or something and drove his family nuts.”

Rock was frozen, unable to move. Jackson had never played the drums, but he’d sure enjoyed his music, and he, indeed, had played it too loud. The carpet might have helped, though Rock had always thought it was a crazy idea.

“You okay, man?” Ink asked.

Rock finally managed to pry his fingers off the edge of the bar and nod.

Breaker laughed again. “What’s even funnier is that the woman who’s selling the house seems reluctant to have us take the carpet down. She hired us to do the job, but this morning, she paced in front of it, wringing her hands as though it was going to be physically painful for us to remove it.”

Rock’s breath hitched as his spine stiffened. “Woman?”

“Yep. Her parents own the place, and they’ve sent her to get it ready to sell.”

Was it possible that Lyla and Jackson’s parents had never sold the house? The idea was preposterous and farfetched. Wishful thinking. Rock needed to get his head out of his ass and straighten it on his shoulders. But a strange feeling crept up his neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “How old is this woman?”

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